His Worst Trait
by theangstspecialist
Summary: Harry is depressed after Dumbledore's death and Ginny is worried. Can she help him?


Disclaimer: Get real my faithful readers. I mean, do I look like a bloody millionaire to you? I OWN NOTHING.

His Worst Trait

There he sat, his skinny body looking particularly helpless. He seemed to be gazing into the shape shifting glow of the common room fire, its entrancing flames dancing carelessly. But I knew better. He was wrapped up in his own thoughts; he wasn't even seeing the glistening flames. I could always tell things like that. I noticed the little details that everyone else missed; the way he avoided physical contact, (unless it was me) that he liked treacle tart, the way he relished in flying because it made him feel free, as if all the strife and abuse from his life was gone. But he wasn't flying. He was on the ground, practicing his worst trait. The one thing that made could ever succeed in making me feel mad at him: blaming himself for what happened. He had done this with Sirius' death, but I had made him see sense. But now Dumbledore was gone, and Harry was distraught. The last man he could look to for guidance, like a father figure, was dead. He was murdered yesterday, by none other than Snape, the devil in black. Harry was in the very same room when it happened, under the body bind curse. Dumbledore fell from the top of the astronomy tower, but he was dead before he hit the ground. As Snape and the other Death Eaters tried to escape, Harry gave chase. I went after him, and found him, unconscious. I still don't know what happened though. He's in no fit state to tell me, and I can't see him going to Albus' funeral tomorrow. I went over and sat next to him on the sofa in front of the fire. His emerald green eyes were shiny, and silent tears were falling from his face. That was another skill he had picked up from the Dursleys: expressing pain through noise meant more pain. I glanced around the room. Most of Gryffindor house had gone to Hogsmeade to take their mind off of what had happened, so it was empty.

I took a deep breath before speaking, prepared for anything, "Harry, you know you don't have to be silent in front of me." I said this gently, but trying to put some severity into it, not prying, but pressuring ever so slightly.

He turned to me at the sound of my voice, and I had to suppress a gasp. His eyes had lost the glint that I was used to seeing, the shine of his brilliant emerald green eyes, and in its place was a dull green colour that looked shallow in comparison to the deep vibrant green he had previously. He looked at me and his body was suddenly attacked with violent sobs. But he still remained silent placing his head into the crook of my neck. Whilst in the dark of my neck Harry went still, but I could still feel the hot wet tears stinging my skin, and therefore decided to leave it a few minutes before I spoke again. His tears stopped about ten minutes later and I lead him outside without him protesting. I walked at a steady place over to our spot down by the lake. He always seemed himself there as no-one was pushing him to be 'the chosen one' or anything else he didn't want to be. He was just… Harry. Harry, the noble git with messy raven coloured hair and stunning emerald green eyes that were full of life. But times had changed, and now he was Harry, the depressed boy with raven coloured hair that was even messier from leaning against me and sobbing, with eyes shrouded with sorrow and dull green in colour, all the brilliance gone. I sat against a tree in my usual spot and he layed down with his head in my lap, and we sat there for a while, just gazing at each other. Some time passed before Harry dropped his gaze, looking ashamed.

"I'm sorry. I've been selfish. I just thought about myself, without once considering how you felt. I know you went to his office once a month. You must have been close to him too…" he said all this without once looking me in the eye, and then got lost in thought, something distracting him.

"Do you know why I went to Dumbledore's office once a month after Sirius' death?" I said, watching him flinch at both Sirius' and Dumbledore's name, much like he did if someone touched him unexpectedly.

"More than likely because he couldn't be bothered to see me, because to him I was just a tool! A mere puppet!" he exclaimed, angry beyond anything Ginny had ever seen him

"No. it was because Dumbledore knew that I understood how you were feeling, without asking you. He wanted to know if you were all right," Ginny said calmly. At this Harry broke down. He kept saying he was sorry in between sobs, and after a while, when he had calmed down, they fell asleep in each other's arms, the way the couple liked sleeping.

They were later found by none other than Professor McGonagall. If it was any other pair of students, she would have yelled at them, taking away points. However, instead, she wiped a tear from her eyes, shaking herself from a memory of another young couple from the last generation of students. She woke them gently, and whispered in Ginny's ear, "You look a lot like Lilly and James," and then to both of them, "off to bed before Filch catches you!" And with that, they went back to the common room, being careful not to wake any portraits. Once there, Harry fell asleep immediately, lying on the sofa, head in Ginny's lap. Ginny noticed something digging into the sofa through his pocket. She took it out of his pocket, careful not to wake Harry. It was Harry's wallet. She had seen it before in Hogsmeade when Harry had bought butter beers at the Hogs Head. She smiled at the memory. She opened it and saw a picture of who, at first, she thought was of her and Harry. But that was the other picture in the wallet. No, she thought, these were two other people. Then she remembered: 'you look a lot like Lilly and James'. That's who it was, Lilly and James. Then she smiled. Because it was true. She did look a lot like Harry's mum.


End file.
